


Something Great

by dragongirlG



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Bucky Barnes Feels, Bucky Barnes Needs a Hug, Cuddling & Snuggling, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Podfic Welcome, Post-Captain America: The Winter Soldier, Post-Serum Steve Rogers, Steve Rogers Feels, Touch-Starved, Winter Soldier Bucky Barnes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-06
Updated: 2020-01-06
Packaged: 2021-02-27 07:14:24
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,485
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22143151
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dragongirlG/pseuds/dragongirlG
Summary: The Soldier knows he is not Bucky Barnes, but he still seeks out Steve Rogers after the helicarriers fall, inexplicably craving Rogers' affection. Rogers gives it. (Basically, the Winter Soldier wants a hug. Steve gives him that and a little more.)Based on a prompt from withinmelove:I have a love for Winter Soldier as his own person so Winter Soldier and Steve cuddling is my prompt! Maybe WS is touch starved and is really eager to be affectionate with Steve who is happy to be close and tender with him.Translation into 中文 available from flyingmax!
Relationships: James "Bucky" Barnes/Steve Rogers
Comments: 127
Kudos: 741





	Something Great

**Author's Note:**

  * For [withinmelove](https://archiveofourown.org/users/withinmelove/gifts).
  * Translation into 中文-普通话 國語 available: [[授翻] 美好之物](https://archiveofourown.org/works/22185427) by [flyingmax](https://archiveofourown.org/users/flyingmax/pseuds/flyingmax)



> Thank you to [withinmelove](https://archiveofourown.org/users/withinmelove/pseuds/withinmelove) for the excellent prompt! 
> 
> Title from One Direction's "Something Great". Listen on YouTube [here](https://youtu.be/TKBMOSW8dCE) and read the lyrics [here](https://www.azlyrics.com/lyrics/onedirection/somethinggreat.html).

The Soldier knows he is not—is no longer—Bucky Barnes, yet three months after the helicarriers fall, he seeks out Steve Rogers anyway.

Long weeks of surveillance on Rogers’ hospital room, safehouse, and heavily-guarded Brooklyn apartment have yielded little intel beyond what the Soldier already knows: that Steve Rogers is Captain America, that the Soldier used to be Bucky Barnes, that the two were best friends who fought side-by-side from childhood until both their supposed deaths.

These facts should affect the Soldier very little, and at first, he treats them like any other, ruminating over the utility of sharing a face with Rogers’ dead best friend. Over time, however, he finds himself longing for the closeness the two shared. He has no desire to be Bucky Barnes again, yet inexplicably he still craves Rogers’ affection.

For a week, he nearly drives himself mad trying to figure out why. Is it the ghost of Bucky Barnes rearing its head in his soul? Or is it—something else? Something new? He does not know; he is not sure if he _wants_ to know. After the seventh sleepless night, he resigns himself to experiencing the feeling if he cannot identify its source.

Two weeks later, he decides to act upon it.

He sneaks into Rogers’ Brooklyn apartment on July 4 and huddles in a dark corner hidden from any sightlines, watching the Macy’s Fireworks show through Rogers’ Stark-proofed window. Rogers is due to return at any moment from the Independence Day charity gala at Avengers Tower in Manhattan. The Soldier trusts that the Tower’s defense system—an impressive A.I. named JARVIS, also designed by Tony Stark—will keep Rogers and the other Avengers safe. He is not sure why he cares, yet the thought gives him peace anyway.

Rogers enters the apartment a little past midnight, shucking off his shield and dress shoes with a loud, gusty sigh as he undoes the buttons on his tuxedo jacket. The Soldier holds his breath, watching him, waiting for Rogers to realizes he isn’t alone. It takes less than a second for Rogers to get into a defensive position, shield held in front of his body, eyes warily tracking around the room. “Who’s there?” he calls.

The Soldier shifts.

Rogers shoots out a hand and flips on the light, relaxing a fraction when he sees the Soldier’s face. “Bucky?” he whispers.

“I’m not Bucky,” says the Soldier.

Rogers’ expression turns wary. “Okay. Then who are you?”

The Soldier shrugs.

Rogers doesn’t say anything for a long moment. Then he asks in a measured tone, “What do you want?”

And that’s the crux of it, really. What _does_ the Soldier want? He wants—he wants to be close to Rogers. He wants Rogers to look at him, touch him, the same way Rogers did Barnes. He feels these desires very clearly, but the idea of speaking them makes his throat close up.

Rogers seems to catch on after a good five minutes of silence have passed. “Can you show me instead of telling me?”

The Soldier nods.

“I reserve the right to defend myself if necessary,” says Rogers, mouth set in a thin line.

"Understood," says the Soldier. "Hold still. Please."

It takes effort. Time. The Soldier cannot recall if he has ever initiated physical contact beyond that which was necessary to compete a mission. In fact, he’s quite sure that extraneous physical contact is a punishable offense he’s been thoroughly conditioned to avoid. Still, he fights past his instinct to run away and slowly, carefully approaches Rogers, leaving his body language loose and open. Rogers tenses up more and more the closer the Soldier gets, but he does remain in place as the Soldier requested.

The Soldier pauses and faces Rogers. They're standing only inches apart now. Rogers is vibrating with tension, his gaze steely, his jaw clenched.

The Soldier says quietly, "I'm not going to hurt you." Then, with a nervous swallow, he reaches for Rogers' hand.

Rogers lets out a stuttered gasp, twitching a little before he gets himself under control. He holds his breath as the Soldier moves Rogers' stiff arm upward and drapes it over the Soldier's back. The Soldier presses his chest against Rogers', carefully dropping his chin onto Rogers' shoulder and taking a slow, shuddering breath, breathing in the scent of the expensive fabric, cologne, and hair gel.

He dares to stay like that for a solid minute, then forces himself to straighten and pull back, heart aching at the sudden loss. "Thank you," he says, lifting his head and meeting Rogers' stunned gaze. The Soldier dips his head in a small nod, then turns his back on Rogers and begins to walk toward the door.

"Wait."

The Soldier pauses mid-stride.

"Um," says Rogers, clearing his throat. "Could you look at me? Please?"

The Soldier wheels around and forces himself to comply.

"So," says Rogers, looking awkward, "Was—was that all you wanted? A…hug?"

The Soldier nods, throat tight.

Rogers stares at him. The Soldier stares back.

"Do you want more?" Rogers asks finally. His cheeks redden, and he clarifies hastily, "More, um, hugs, that is."

The Soldier swallows down the hope that springs in his chest. His voice catches in his throat as he nods.

"Okay," says Rogers, blowing out a breath. He shrugs out of his tuxedo jacket, turns off the overhead light, and switches on a small lamp in the corner. Then he gestures toward the leather couch laid against the wall, keeping his eyes on the Soldier as he edges toward one side and finally sits down. He places the shield on the ground next to his feet and stretches his left arm out along the back of the couch. "Come here, please."

The Soldier cautiously steps forward and sits down next to Rogers. The leather of the couch is as soft as butter, and the cushions nearly threaten to swallow him whole. He holds himself stiffly, twitching when Rogers curls his arm around the Soldier's shoulders.

"Is this all right?" asks Rogers.

The Soldier nods, shivering as Rogers brushes his fingers against the Soldier's skin through the fabric of the Soldier's shirt.

"Make yourself comfortable," says Rogers, sinking back into the cushions with a sigh. "Take as much time as you need."

The Soldier tries to maintain his posture for a few minutes, but inevitably he finds himself following Rogers' lead, letting the couch support most of his weight. Very carefully, he leans his head against Rogers' arm.

Rogers makes a small, soft noise and curls his wrist, playing with the ends of the Soldier's hair. The Soldier leans into it, sighing, tension leaching out of his body at the teasing touch.

After some time, Rogers gently pulls him closer. The Soldier lets him, trembling when Rogers brushes his thumb against the nape of the Soldier's neck. "All right?" Rogers asks softly.

The Soldier nods, turning his head and pressing his cheek into Rogers' shoulder. Rogers shifts and lightly rubs circles on the back of the Soldier's neck with his thumb, occasionally running his fingers through the Soldier's hair and combing out the tangles. The Soldier's breathing gradually slows, and his eyes flutter shut as he soaks in the tender contact.

Part of him can't believe he's letting Rogers—his mission!—weaken him like this. Another part of him is screaming with joy at finally experiencing the affection he's fantasized about for days. He feels like he's floating on a warm cloud, and he never wants to come down. It doesn't matter whether he's being driven by the ghost of Bucky Barnes or by something else—all he knows is that he feels good for the first time in decades.

"You can stay here if you want," Rogers murmurs when the Soldier has nearly dozed off. "It's safe."

The Soldier cracks his eyes open reluctantly and tilts his head up to look at Rogers' face. "I tried to kill you," he points out, squinting.

"Not tonight, you didn't," Rogers responds, mouth quirking in a half-smile. "That was months ago. You're practically asleep anyway. And if you stay, I'll make you breakfast in the morning."

"Breakfast," the Soldier echoes, blinking.

"Yeah," says Rogers, huffing a laugh. "I make a mean toast and eggs. What d'you say?"

Rogers looks so earnest in the golden lamplight. The Soldier knows that he should be wary, that he should resist—but he doesn't want to. He clears his throat and takes a deep breath, letting it out slowly.

"Fine," he says.

Rogers smiles.

"But only if you stay right there," the Soldier mutters very softly. "You make a very nice pillow."

Rogers strokes the Soldier's hair. "I'll stay as long as you want me to," he answers.

"Thank you." The Soldier resumes his position, nestling against Rogers' firm chest and letting the soft, rhythmic strokes of Rogers' fingers lull him to sleep.

**Author's Note:**

> Comments, kudos, and transformative works are always appreciated! Please let me know what you think; I would love to hear from you.
> 
> Come say hello: [Tumblr](https://dragongirlg-fics.tumblr.com/) | [Dreamwidth](https://dragongirlg.dreamwidth.org/) | [Pillowfort](https://www.pillowfort.social/dragongirlg)


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